I was sitting in a nearby diner the other day trying to fill my desire for broasted chicken. Due to the couples megaphone loud conversation with the waitress I could not help but overhear their braggadocios claims. “We picked over 40 quarts of wild blueberries in just a couple of hours”. Had to be a fib! Nobody could pick like that in a cultured, fertilized blueberry patch much less out in the wild. Wild blueberries are much smaller and less abundant than those grown by us humans. They were probably liars. I got to start thinking about lies. Some black, some white, some for the greater good.
We anglers are well versed in the art of weaving un-truths. “We caught a bunch today but we let them all go, we were fun fishin’!”The biggest one was this big (imagine hands thrust forward and wide apart-usually twice the actual size of the fish)”. Expected lie.
“Not catchin’ a thing, it’s slow as torment” is a common response to the ancient question of “They biting?”. Most likely there is a livewell with at least one or two tasty walleye waiting to be filleted on the boat. Common lie.
“Honey, how long will you be gone?”….”oh, not long, I’ll give you a call when I get a signal”. I live in the UP. I only get a signal occasionally at best. Maybe if the fish stop biting and I get bored I will check signal strength and the Intellicast radar. “I musta been in a dead zone on the lake all day”. This is what I call a therapy lie.
You got to admit, sometimes the call of the wild must be satisfied. Natural, organic therapy. A nice relaxing day tempting finned fare is medicinal. The Zen should not be broken by “we need milk, will you stop on the way home?”. This is where texting has helped the serenity of the water remain intact. It’s a beautiful thing. I will bring home milk.
I was introduced to a baby the other day. You know there are cute babies and there are not so cute babies. This particular baby was hideous. Funny shaped head, scrunched up puffy face, eyes moving not unlike a chameleon and patchy fur, I mean hair. I smiled, hiding my gasp. “That’s a good lookin’ kid you got there!” Merciful lie. I started to chuckle on my inside, then it just popped out . “Lucky how we look better when we grow up!” He didn’t find one iota of humor in that. I think he knows.
You see, there are many types of lies. I think the majority are harmless and compassionate. The vicious ones give lies a bad rap. Luckily, most of the specter of fisherman’s fibs are of the playful type. Or the therapy kind.
FISH ON!
Gary